


Prompt 9: Blankets

by LadyArinn



Series: Februrary 2020 Daily Prompts [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Feels, Fluff, M/M, Memories, Memory Related, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Repressed Memories, Sleepy Cuddles, Snow, for a moment - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22756417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyArinn/pseuds/LadyArinn
Summary: Bucky sometimes gets caught, one foot in the past and one foot in the present, and Steve can never predict what he'll remember next.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Februrary 2020 Daily Prompts [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621495
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	Prompt 9: Blankets

Steve woke up quickly, years of training and necessity requiring him to be alert immediately to whatever had woken him up. He quickly looks around, trying to asses the situation in moments and find any possible danger to figure out how best to take it out. 

But when he looks all he notices is the dark form of Bucky standing over him, just the shadowy outline of a figure discernible from the rest of the darkness around them but Steve could pick out his shape anywhere, knew the smell of him on the air better than anything else in this overwhelming world.

The space of bed behind him is cool, meaning Bucky had been up for a while, probably brooding in the dark as he sometimes liked to after a dream that was more memory than fiction. He watches as Bucky moves something toward him, and blinks as he feels the weight of one of the quilts they keep in the living room being laid carefully over him.

“Buck? What are you up to?” He asks quietly, voice filled with careful curiosity so that the other man wouldn’t feel pressured or spooked. Steve couldn’t see his face, couldn’t get a proper read on his headspace, and he hated the darkness for it.

“It’s snowing.” Bucky said, voice gravely and rough, “Gotta keep you warm.”

He draped another quilt over Steve, careful to tuck it in securely around him, and the blond man puzzled over the situation for a moment. They were in their rooms at the tower, carefully temperature controlled to remain comfortable no matter the weather outside. There was no need to pile Steve up with blankets.

“Why’s that, Buck?” He murmurs, already feeling the extra weight of the blankets making him just a bit too hot. 

Bucky pauses his fretting over the way the blankets laid, resting one hand on Steve’s ankle and squeezing slightly in a way that made Steve almost dizzy from the tenderness. “You always get so cold when it snows, Stevie.” He murmurs, voice dipping back into the bostonian accent of decades past. And Steve is abruptly thrown back into memories of snowstorms that rattled their walls in the same way the cold made Steve’s bones shake and shiver, curled up on their slim little bed with his skin and bone hands tucked between his legs to try and keep something resembling warmth in his frail fingers. 

He remembers how Bucky would always take every single one of their blankets and pile them up on him, their too small fire burning more coal than they could really afford to try and keep the space heated.

_ “All that stupid ain’t gonna keep you warm, Buck.” _ He remembers accusing, words barely legible through his chattering teeth and blue lips,  _ “You gotta keep some for yourself.” _

Buck had ran his hand through Steve’s hair, fingers so gentle and soothing, always stirring up the same hunger no matter if Steve was sure they couldn’t do anything for fear of the cold.

_ “I run hot, Stevie. Always have. I’ll be fine so long as you keep your stupid mug warm. There’s still some hope for you so long as your face doesn’t freeze this way, you know.” _

And looking up at the shadow of Bucky now, nearly a century away from where they were but still so close, Steve said the same thing he’d always said to Bucky on those harsh winter days and nights.

“It’ll be warmer with you in here with me, you know.” He murmurs, watching as Bucky walks around the bed to his side with a full heart and a tight throat. 

He helps lift the covers for Bucky to slide in, and Steve turns them so that he’s curled up against the other man’s back, the two of them fitting together like two old spoons in a drawer. 

“FRIDAY, lower the temperature and open the blinds, please.” He requests quietly, and the AI complies without response as to not potentially upset Bucky with the robotic sound of her voice cutting through the darkness.

The blinds open for them to see the rapidly falling snow, lit up by the city beneath them. Steve nuzzles his face into the warm curve of Bucky’s throat, squeezing back when Bucky took one of his hands and held on desperately tight.

They both silently watched the snow, warmly cocooned from the weather and the rest of the world in their nest of blankets and darkness, allowing their past and present to congeal in this one perfect, quiet moment just for the two of them.


End file.
